All the King's Gold
by Alex Glaven
Summary: *Akiko* Whoohoo! I updated! What do you get when you mix one greedy Bard, an ugly princess, a clumsy knight, and an absent minded Sorcerer? Trouble, and lots of it.
1. Chapter 1 pt 1

Hi, it's Akiko again! Alright, this fic isn't quite as depressing as the  
last one I posted, so, here we go!  
  
All the King's Gold  
Chapter 1, Part 1  
Of Prophecies and Princesses  
  
Princess Misty knew she wasn't pretty.  
  
In the perfect, calm, peaceful Lesser Kingdom of Cerulean, no one  
had expected a misfit princess. Her three older sisters, Daisy, Violet,  
and Lily, were all model princesses. They had perfect bodies, perfect  
faces, perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfectly sweet dispositions...and  
perfectly empty heads. As all princesses, they embroidered and danced,  
and knew exactly how loud and how many times they should scream when  
being carried off by a giant, or a dragon, or any other such nasty  
creature that would wait in its lair for knights to rescue its prize.  
  
Or eat the princess.   
  
But Misty wasn't an average princess. Despite her fifteen years,  
she was still short and scrawny. Her hair was flyaway, and distinctly  
orange. Her blue eyes and pale complexion were pretty enough, but she  
tended to freckle easily in the sun. If her looks weren't bad enough for  
a princess, she had a rather nasty temper, no patience to speak of, and  
had a dislike for dresses and all formal occasions.  
  
She was telling her mother so before an upcoming ball to  
celebrate her fast approaching sixteenth birthday.  
  
"My dear Misty, if you would simply give your gowns a chance-"  
  
"Mother! I don't want to!" Misty made sure her voice carried to  
ever corner of the Great Hall, quite a feat considering its size. Even  
for a large and prosperous kingdom, the Great Hall of Cerulean Castle was  
extravagant. A small village could fit comfortably within its marble  
walled confines, with room to spare. "I don't like dresses, I don't like  
balls, and I don't like being a princess!"  
  
With a huff she turned and stalked from the raised dais where her  
parents' twin thrones resided, nearly knocking two maids holding large  
dishes of food over.  
  
She wandered aimlessly through Cerulean Castles' many long halls,  
spiral staircases and turreted towers before she came to her chambers.   
Once there, she fell face forward on the blue bedspread. She would have  
cried, but that seemed far too princess-like for her.  
  
"I really don't like being a princess," she realized sitting up.   
"I suppose this is when I go off and seek my fortune...yes...that's what  
I want! I want adventure, excitement!"  
  
With immense excitement, she began making plans. The side door  
of the outer walls was always unlocked, and usually left unguarded.  
  
"But I had best attend the ball," she decided. "If I'm not  
there, Mother and Father will know that something is amiss."  
  
************  
  
The ball came all too fast. Misty was forced to stand still for  
hours while her seamstresses folded, tucked, and stitched until her gown  
fit her just right. It was a cumbersome thing, all of velvet and silk,  
all in varying shades of blue, and all of it trimmed heavily with sliver.  
A tiny crown of silver and pearl had been crafted to be pinned in her  
hair, and blue velvet dancing slippers had been made for the occasion.   
The was primped, curled, perfumed, and dressed up like a doll.  
  
She hated every minute of it.  
  
Finally the great occasion came. The orchestra's soft music  
mingled with the scent of roses in the air. Tables that stretched from  
wall to wall groaned with the feast laid out upon their silk tablecloths.  
Every dish imaginable and even some foreign dishes from beyond the sea  
were quickly devoured. Nobles from far off lands conversed lightly, and  
the younger courtiers danced in their slow, spinning tradition.  
  
After eating, Misty only sat near one of the floor to ceiling  
windows and scowled. She truly hated formal occasions.  
  
"Ah, there you are, daughter!" her father boomed, parting the  
crowds with his considerable girth. A strange boy kept step behind him.  
  
****************  
  
He had dark hair and eyes, and was dressed in maroon and pale blue, Bard  
colors. In his hands he carried a beautifully crafted lute, even though  
it was strapped to his shoulder. Misty eyed him with mistrust. "Your  
sixteenth birthday! A marvelous occasion indeed!"  
  
Those in the room clapped politely. The applause didn't last  
long, the nobles that did know Misty were not overly fond of her.  
  
"And for such a marvelous occasion, a special present!" he shoved  
the boy forward and clapped him hard on the back. The boy staggered,  
bringing the lute up to his chest so he wouldn't release it, and gave the  
King a look of contempt out of the corner of one eye. Misty refrained  
from saying anything, the boy had to be at least a year younger than her,  
and probably didn't know any better.  
  
"A boy?" she said instead with all of the disdain she could  
muster. Which was a lot, she didn't like the scrawny boy in front of  
her. "And what, pray tell, am I to do with him, Father?"  
  
The King through back his head and laughed. The boy gave her a  
sour look. She gave a small smirk of satisfaction when her father  
clapped him on the back again, and his knees nearly buckled. "My dear!   
This is no mere boy! This is Bard Ashton, rumored to be able to sing a  
prophecy for anyone standing in front of him! I thought it right that he  
sing your own on this joyous day!"  
  
Misty could have sworn that she heard the Bard mutter something  
about flowery speeches, but couldn't be sure. The entire hall fell  
silent, and a chair was pulled up so the Bard could sit in front of her.  
  
****************  
  
He arranged his lute just so, then studied her for a moment.  
  
"Well?" she snapped, her patience never had lasted long. "Get on  
with it!"  
  
"Patience is a virtue," he said softly. But the moment his  
fingers touched the strings, all of her impatience melted away. The  
melody was painfully beautiful to listen to, she was sure that if given  
the chance, she would have listened to him play for forever. His brown  
eyes glazed over, as if he couldn't see her or the Hall anymore, and a  
faint glow surrounded him.  
  
And then the words came.   
  
"A Lady by birth  
For all of riches' worth  
Seeks only the Earth  
  
Be free, wild one  
You have only to run  
The pact is done  
  
The Bard will guide you  
Loyal and true  
You know what to do."  
  
  
The music stopped, and the Bard broke from his trance. He shook  
his head, as if to clear it, and stood.  
  
"You call that a prophecy?" she snorted.  
  
Her father gave her a severe look. "Misty…"  
  
"I was paid to sing a prophecy to the Princess Misty, and sing  
you a prophecy I did," the Bard said, bowing low.   
  
"You said that you would guide me," Misty said incredulously. In  
the back of her mind she wondered if the Bard had meant her plans for  
running away to seek her fortune that very night.  
  
He straitened. "Did I? It's unfortunate that I don't remember  
the prophecies I sing for people."  
  
Typical.  
  
Bard Ashton slipped back into the crowds, and Misty was showered  
with gifts, congratulations and fake smiles. After what seemed to be an  
eternity, but in reality was a little over an hour, she was finally  
allowed to return to her chambers.  
  
Once there, she changed into a dress more suitable for travel as  
quickly as she could. This one was a forest green, with cream colored  
sleeves tied by green ribbon. She decided against clipping a small  
golden crown into her hair, but brought it in a small pack she slung over  
her shoulder. Aside from the crown, it held seven spare silken  
handkerchiefs, two apples, a small bottle of water, and a jeweled dagger  
she had stolen from the table, just in case she needed it. Ankle-high  
boots of the softest doeskin replaced her slippers.   
  
Satisfied with her appearance and supplies, Misty left her room.  
It wasn't very hard to sneak past the drunken guard in the corridor, or  
the old, nearsighted, stone deaf gatekeeper. She stepped onto the cobble  
streets of Cerulean City, free at last.  
  
**********  
  
Hope you guys enjoyed that. More coming soon! Please R&R!  
Gary: Hey, why am I NOT in this fic yet?  
Because I hate you.  
Brock: Then why am I not in this fic?  
Because you have no eyes.  
Gary: Do you really hate me?  
No, you're my favorite character.  
Gary: Then why am I not in this yet.  
Because you deserve a very dramatic entrance.  
Gary: Do I get one?  
Maybe.  
  
Stay tuned for the second part of Chapter 1:  
Bards, Knights, and Sorcerers, Oh My! 


	2. Chapter 1 pt 2

Alright, I'm back! Another fun chapter in All the King's Gold. I have  
one review! Yay!   
Gary: Am I in this one?  
Maybe.  
Gary: I'd better be!  
Whatever. Here's the story!  
  
All the King's Gold  
Chapter 1, Part 2: Bards, Knights, and Sorcerers, oh my!  
  
By midnight, Misty was wishing fervently that she had thought to  
take her horse as well, or at least stayed in the confines of the City  
until dawn. It was too late by then, though. She was in the middle of  
the dark forest, completely lost, without a light. Luckily, she wasn't  
lacking in sense, so she didn't stop to cry tragically over her fate.   
Instead, she kept on walking, hoping she would find a camp before the  
creatures of the forest found her.  
After walking for some time, she saw a fire flickering between  
the trunks of the trees. With a shout of joy, she ran towards the light  
source.  
It was a small camp. A sleeping pallet had been rolled out next  
to the fire, the owner reclining against a tree next to it. A gorgeous  
black stallion was tether a few feet away, and it whickered softly as she  
approached.  
It was warning enough for its rider. He jumped to his feet and  
pulled a dagger from the confines of his clothing, then stopped short.  
"Oh, it's YOU!" she cried, exasperated.  
"Princess Misty?" the Bard asked, while putting away his daggers.  
"What are you doing here?"  
"I'm running off to seek my fortune, what else would the  
youngest, ugliest daughter of the King of Cerulean be doing out in the  
woods in the middle of the night?" she asked. It was, of course, plain  
logic to her.  
He obviously didn't think so. "You could have gotten yourself  
killed! There are bandits, and-"  
"I'm capable of taking care of myself," she raised her chin,  
wishing she had worn her crown. "I'm a princess."  
"Aye, and you're about as brainless and defenseless as every  
other princess I've met," the Bard glared right back at her.  
An idea struck her. "You will be my escort."  
"WHAT?!"  
"Well, since you're so keen on calling me brainless and  
defenseless, and you're suited to traveling these woods, you will be my  
escort," she looked him up and down. "You're not much, Bard, but you'll  
do. You did say you'd guide me in your prophecy."  
He shook his head. "If you want a hero, you should find a knight. I  
only work for money."  
Misty bit her lip. She hadn't thought to bring money with her.   
Cursing herself for being as stupid as one of her sisters, she pulled her  
crown from her handbag.  
"Will this do for payment?" she held it out at arm's length. He relieved  
her of it, and studied it carefully.  
"Yes, princess, it will do well," he bowed slightly, and went to  
stow it away in the already bulging saddlebags next to his pallet.   
"Good," she stepped over next to him, and looked down her nose at  
the sleeping pallet. It was poor, but it was better than the ground.   
"I'm glad we could come to an agreement, Bard."  
"Call me 'Ash', and unless you keep blankets stashed in that  
little bag of yours, you're sleeping on the ground," he sat meaningfully  
on the pallet. Misty glared at him, but he paid her little attention,  
looking into the flames. With a huff, she stomped over to the other side  
of the fire. As she lay down to what most certainly would be the most  
uncomfortable night of her life, Ash threw something to her.  
It was a blanket.  
  
"So, how did such a famous Bard end up traveling alone, without  
an escort?" she asked him the very next day. He had allowed her to ride  
on his horse, Nightrider, while he led it from the ground. He was no  
longer wearing Bard colors, but a simply cut tunic, breeches, and knee  
high boots, all in black. His lute was still slung over his shoulder,  
but a sword had been added to his attire. He looked like a lowly thief.  
"An escort would be too expensive, and too much of a hassle," Ash  
replied.  
"Doesn't the Bardic Guild acquire you with an escort?" Misty was  
taken aback. Apparently there was a lot she didn't know.  
He laughed at that. She had to admit that he had a nice laugh.   
"Princess, I'm only fourteen, the youngest member of the Bardic Guild.   
Gifted or not, famous or not, I'm not worth the trouble. Anyway, I can  
take care of myself."  
"If you're going to insist that I call you 'Ash', then I will  
have to insist that you refrain from calling me 'princess'," Misty  
demanded.  
He turned and smiled at her. "I didn't insist, Misty."  
They continued upon their way, with very few words passing  
between them. Misty tried to engage the Bard into conversation,  
commenting on the scenery or the weather. He would merely make a simple  
reply and keep his silence. He had to be the most anti-social Bard she  
had ever met in her life, but she supposed she hadn't paid him enough for  
him to carry on a conversation. She was about to point this out when  
there was a yell from farther up the road.  
"Back, villain! Unhand the fair Princess Misty!" there was a  
great deal of clattering, and a knight came into view. His armor didn't  
fit well, the joints connected at odd angles, and the craftsman ship was  
shoddy. The knight held up a sword and charged Ash with a shout.  
Ash cursed and drew his own sword, more slender and probably  
lighter than the knights, and leapt out of the way. His horse, with her  
still on its back, leapt the other, and ran into the forest.  
She began to yell at it to stop, but once the road was out of  
sight it came to a halt and waited patiently in the trees.  
"I wonder if this happens often," Misty muttered, getting down  
from the horse without much difficulty and running back to the road to  
clear up the knight's apparent misunderstanding.  
There was no need for her arrival, however. Ash clearly had  
things under control. The knight wasn't dead, but was clearly stunned, a  
large dent in his helmet. Ash hadn't even broken a sweat.  
"Princess Misty! That you could escape such a fiend!" the knight  
gasped when she reappeared on the roadside. "Alas, he has wounded me,  
and I cannot fight him. Be brave, Princess, another knight will soon  
rescue you!"  
"You're perfectly fine," Ash told him. "I didn't even hit you  
that hard."  
"Brigand! I, Sir Brock, shall slay thee!" Brock struggled to  
rise, and made a big show of it. "If I could but stand, I'd cut thy  
lying tongue from thy mouth! Thou unholy-"  
"Sir Brock! Wait!" Misty came out of the woods, trying very hard  
not to laugh at the knight. This was a serious situation, after all.   
"Oh, fair Misty, you are brave to uphold such tribulation, and I  
salute thee," and he did so. "Hark, a light."  
Misty was thoroughly sick of him. She stalked over to him and  
pulled off his helmet, hitting him on top of the head with her fist as  
she did so. "It's the sun, you dolt."  
Brock put his head in his hands, but not before she could get a  
good look at him. He was dark, with a rather strong chin and spiky hair.  
The overall effect would have been handsome if he hadn't of been  
squinting, enough that she couldn't even see his eyes.  
"Ow."  
"Serves you right!" she yelled at him.   
"But m'lady! I came to rescue thee from the villain who has  
taken thee from thy father's castle!" Brock protested.   
Misty blinked. "Kidna-oh. No, Ash didn't kidnap me! I ran  
away! He was simply kind enough to render his services! Besides, Ash  
wouldn't kidnap me! He's a Bard!"  
"Oh," Misty couldn't be sure whether Brock had blinked or not.   
"Well, then."  
"Yes, so I insist that you leave me to seek my fortune," Misty  
ordered him.  
"I apologize, Princess Misty, but I cannot allow that!" Brock  
stood up and sheathed his sword with some difficulty. "I must attend  
thee, as thy father would wish it! One Bard can not hope to stand  
against some of the ruffians along these roads, though good with a sword  
he may be, and I insist upon protecting thee!"  
"Ash!" Misty looked over to the Bard for assistance.   
Ash had been watching the proceedings with amusement, and now  
sheathed his own sword. "If you really want to come with us, lose the  
armor."  
"Pardon me?" Brock looked a bit horrified.  
"It's a bit conspicuous, don't you think?" he whistled, and his  
horse came trotting out of the woods.   
"And two men of lowly station traveling with a lady of obviously  
noble birth isn't?" Brock retorted, but already he was removing his  
gauntlets. "I suppose the armor is rather noticeable. It will have to  
go."  
"Good, I'm glad we agree on something," Ash held onto the reigns  
while Misty mounted. "But this could be a bad situation if we had to  
make a quick get away."  
Brock nodded. "True, we have but one horse, and there are three  
of us. Alas, if we are forced to flee, I will remain here, as I am the  
heaviest of us all and would only slow you down."  
He looked rather dejected at the thought, but Ash either didn't  
notice or didn't care. Either way, Misty liked him all the less.  
  
That night they camped a little ways off from the road. Brock  
volunteered to cook, which left Misty to talk to Ash.  
She wasn't happy.  
"So, where are we going?" she asked, as he spread out his sleeping  
pad. "I would like to know, so I can be prepared for what lies ahead."  
"I'm not sure," Ash admitted. "We might try going to Celadon, or  
Pewter-"  
"I prefer Celadon. I've been to Pewter, but never to Celadon,"  
she cut in, her eyes lighting up. "They have the biggest market in all  
of Kanto!"  
"-Or Pallet," Ash finished.  
Misty made a face. "Pallet? Why would anyone want to go to  
Pallet? It's a little, out of the way kingdom on the coast that is  
constantly under attack by raiders from Johto! That, and it's dingy and  
everyone there is so poor they can't afford to move anywhere else!"  
"And it's my home town," Ash gave her a strained grin. "I said  
Celadon because that's the headquarters of the Bardic Guild, and Pewter  
because the food is excellent and the inn is cheap."  
"Oh," she thought about apologizing, but decided against it.   
Princesses didn't apologize, especially not her sisters. Of course, her  
sisters were quite dull, so they said very simple things that no one ever  
had to apologize for. "Well, I still think we should go to Celadon."  
"Pewter is my humble birth place," Brock joined in their  
conversation. "It is not a grand place, but it is worth a short visit in  
the least."  
"And it's on the way to Pallet, so we'll be going there," Ash  
made up his mind. "Of course, we'll have to go around Mount Moon."  
"Ah, yes, Mount Moon holds many dangers not suitable for a lady  
such as you, Princess Misty," Brock nodded sagely. "Perhaps we should  
visit Celadon after all."  
Misty agreed whole-heartedly with him. "I think Brock's right.   
Mount Moon is dangerous, and-"  
"And that's why Brock is with us, to protect you," Ash  
interrupted   
A voice from very nearby caused them all to start. "Now, I'm  
sure it's around here somewhere."  
Ash was on his feet in an instant, his sword out. Brock was a  
bit slower. His sword was halfway across the clearing they had decided  
to camp in, and in its place he brandished the ladle he had been stirring  
the stew with. Misty thought it best to stand behind them.  
An elderly man in flowing white robes and a circlet in his iron  
grey hair walked right into their clearing. He stopped short when he saw  
them, an absent expression on his face. A boy about her age with scruffy  
auburn hair in grey robes of the same cut followed closely behind.   
"Oh, hello," the man gave them a curious look. "We weren't  
expecting anyone to be here, were we?"  
"No, Grandpa," the boy replied sullenly. "We weren't."  
Ash made a funny noise and brought his hand up to his mouth.   
Misty suspected he was trying not to laugh from the way his shoulders  
were shaking. She hit him between the shoulder blades, hard. "Don't be  
rude!"  
"I beg your pardon?" the man looked rather offended. "We had no  
idea that there would be anyone in this clearing, and-"  
"Oh, I didn't mean you," Misty was rather angry by that point,  
and when she motioned to Ash it was violent enough that Brock paled. "I  
meant my companion here, the one without any manners."  
Ash had apparently gained control over his laughter. He  
straitened up and took a deep breath. "My apologies, Misty. I didn't  
mean to offend you or anyone else.  
"He doesn't appear to be rude at all," the older man closed the  
distance between them. "I am Professor Samuel Oak, and this is my  
grandson, Gary. We both study magic of all kinds."  
"You're wizards?" Misty cocked an eyebrow.  
"No my dear, we are sorcerers," Professor Oak corrected her.   
"Well, actually, I'm a sorcerer, and my grandson here is my apprentice.   
We were just coming here because you can see the moon perfectly, and it's  
one of our favorite places to conjure."  
"Oh," this made very little sense to Misty, but she smiled and nodded  
anyway. "We were just camping here for the night. I'm Misty Waterflo-"  
Oak suddenly bowed and took her hands. "Princess Misty! It is a  
pleasure to make your acquaintance! And please, introduce your  
companions!"  
"I am Bard Ashton of Pallet, and this is Sir Brock of Pewter,"  
Ash took introductions into his own hands. "The pleasure is ours."  
"Why are you with these two if you're a princess?" Gary asked,  
giving Ash and his black attire a dubious glance.   
Professor Oak finally released her hands, and she restrained  
herself from sighing with relief. "Well, I don't exactly like being a  
Princess, so I thought about running away. And then for my sixteenth  
birthday present my father paid this crazy Bard to sing me a prophecy."  
She motioned to Ash. Both Oaks suddenly became very much  
interested in him.  
"You sing prophecies?" the Professor looked as if all of his  
dreams had come true at once. "How? Could you perform one now? Could  
you explain exactly how you-"  
Ash held up his hands, and the Professor fell silent immediately.  
"I just do, Professor. If someone is sitting directly in front of me, I  
start playing and then suddenly I'm awake again and everyone is  
applauding me."  
"So, you don't remember what you sing," Gary gave him a  
thoughtful look. "Hmmm, quite the puzzle. Could you demonstrate?"  
Ash held out a hand. "I'll need the proper motivation."  
"Oh, yes, payment," Professor Oak dug around in the pockets of  
his robes. The search came out unsuccessful, however. "Drat. All of  
our money is in the Tower. Would you be so kind as to join us for tea?   
We have several guest rooms."  
"We happily accept your offer," Misty said before Ash could open  
his mouth.   
"Princess, we have no acquaintance with these people," Brock  
hissed to her when the Oaks had their backs turned. "How do we know they  
aren't evil sorcerers?"  
She smiled. "Brock, have you ever met an absent minded evil  
sorcerer? If they were real evil sorcerer's, they would have announced  
themselves with a flash and a bang. And if they are anyway, we'll know  
because of their tower."  
Brock reluctantly agreed, emptied his pot and put it back with  
their supplies, dousing the fire as he did so.  
Ash made no comment as he repacked and tied his saddlebags.   
Apparently the prospect of getting paid, having a place to stay, and free  
food was enough to drive any suspicions away.   
The tower was only a little ways off, after a strenuous climb up  
the side of a mountain. Like all Sorcerer's towers, it was perched on  
the brink of a cliff, shining a dazzling white in the moonlight. A  
single, dark wooden door was the entrance, and once inside Misty gasped.  
Mirrors lined the curving walls, a broad, sweeping staircase  
right at there feet carpeted with the finest red velvet. Huge silver and  
crystal chandeliers lit up magically as they entered. On the ceiling  
emerald dragons with topaz fire, knights in armor of silver, and every  
other creature imaginable was depicted with gems and metal. Misty  
couldn't stop looking up.  
"This way!" Professor Oak led them up the staircase. Misty  
stumbled so often that finally Gary grabbed her arm and led her up the  
stairs.   
The top of the stairs held a room entirely different.  
They were obviously living quarters, with twisting halls and more  
staircases leading to other rooms. The room was lit by magic, but no  
chandeliers. It was comfortable, but not dazzling like the staircase.   
It was clean, which was surprising, as the Professor hadn't mentioned  
anyone else living there.  
"You'll have to pardon the entry way," Professor Oak said a bit  
sheepishly. "We do like to show off."  
"Grandpa! Gary!" a girl a few years older than her burst into  
the room. She was rather pretty, her pale skin complementing her dark  
hair and big, expressive brown eyes. Her dress was excessively low cut,  
showing off her impressively large chest.  
Ash and Brock blushed. Ash quickly composed himself, but Brock seemed to  
be lost to the world.  
"I didn't know you would be back so soon!" she exclaimed, then  
she saw the three travelers. "Oh, do beg pardon! I didn't know you  
brought guests!"  
"They were in the clearing, and the Bard has offered to sing a  
prophecy for us," Gary shrugged. She hugged him and immediately began  
kissing his cheek. "May! Stop that!"  
"I'm sorry, little brother!" she teased, obviously enjoying the  
embarrassment she was causing him. "Are these three your new friends?   
Who are they?"  
"I'm Princess Misty Waterflower of the Kingdom of Cerulean,"  
Misty announced herself proudly. "These are my companions and  
protectors, Bard Ashton of Pallet and Sir Brock of Pewter."  
"'Tis surely a pleasure to meet thee, m'lady," Brock dropped to  
one knee and took both of her hands in his. "I would go to the ends of  
the earth to find a beauty such as thee."  
"A princess and her two companions?" May jerked her hands from  
Brock's, taking no notice of his compliments. He looked rather crushed,  
and Misty felt a surge of anger on his behalf. "It's a pleasure to meet  
you!"  
"This is my grand daughter, May," Oak put one hand on her  
shoulder. "My assistant should be around here somewhere."  
"Here, Professor!" a boy about Brock's age with dark green hair  
tied back by a strip of cloth bolted from a door on the right. He was  
dressed in fine clothes, but his weathered face and callused hands told  
the truth. He was a peasant.  
"Ah, good," Oak's smile broadened. "This is Tracey. Tracey,  
could you go get one of the gold chains from the vault, please?"  
Ash's eyes lit up at the word "gold", and Misty shot him a  
disgusted look. "Yes, sir!"  
"Sit down, Ash," Oak motioned to a chair, and Ash took it. "Now,  
Gary, you sit in front of him."  
Gary did so, looking eager to hear a prophecy. Ash unhurriedly  
slipped his lute from his shoulder and took a few moments to tune it. He  
arranged it correctly and began to play.  
It was another haunting, beautiful melody, but not quite as  
captivating as the one he had played at the Ball. Misty supposed that it  
was due to the fact that he wasn't singing to her. Once again, his eyes  
glazed over and a faint aura surrounded him.  
  
"Join the company three  
Help to solve the mystery  
Follow the crooked line  
Everything in its good time  
A sorcerer you will be  
If you follow the three."  
  
Now that she knew him, Misty noticed that after he sang the  
prophecy and came to his senses, Ash looked very tired. Concern for him  
that she didn't want arose.  
Professor Oak didn't seem to notice Ash's exhaustion, but he had written  
the entire thing down with much scratching of quill. He held it up and  
frowned. "Hmmm, a prophecy in the form of a riddle. My dear Misty, do  
you remember your own prophecy?"  
"Only something about 'running free' and 'the Bard being my  
guide'," Misty admitted sheepishly. "So far that's all come true, I ran  
away, and now he's my guide."  
"Speaking of which, you owe me," Ash held out one hand to her.   
Apparently he also became very irritable after singing a prophecy.  
Sighing, she dug one of her silk handkerchiefs ou of her handbag  
and surrendered it to him. It was enough payment, at least, he didn't  
complain.  
"Well, how about I double your pay and you sing Misty's  
prophecy?" Oak suggested.  
Ash sighed and motioned for her to sit in front of him. She did  
so. He didn't have to arrange or tune his lute this time, so he simply  
began playing.  
  
"The journey's begun  
It's far from done  
The ending of days  
Is where your path lays."  
  
The song was much shorter than the last one, and Ash had some  
difficulty coming out of the trance. Misty was more than concerned now,  
she was worried. He was pale, he was having trouble breathing, and bags  
that hadn't been there before hung heavily under his eyes.   
Once again, Professor Oak, or anyone else for that matter, didn't  
notice. In fact, Oak was oblivious enough to ask Brock to sit in front  
of Ash, insisting on paying him much more than was previously offered.  
  
"Protect her."  
  
All at once, without warning, Ash fell over in the chair, landing  
in a heap on the wooden floor. May let out a soft scream (the perfect  
pitch and volume for such an occasion, Misty noted), Gary and Brock  
started, and Misty was at his side in an instant.  
"Ash! Ash, are you alright?" she shook his shoulder. His eyes  
remained closed, and his breath rattled in his throat. "Ash! Wake up!"  
Professor Oak stood and nodded. "Just as I thought. The Bardic  
Guild had no notion of what they were doing when they trained him."  
"You did this on purpose?!" Misty turned to glare at him.  
"Well, I had to know," Oak admitted sheepishly.   
Sounding a scream of fury, she launched herself at him. "You  
could have killed him!"  
Brock grabbed her from behind. "Princess! Calm thyself!"  
"If Ash doesn't wake up then I'll-"  
"Then you'll what?" Oak cut her off. "Have me arrested?   
Beheaded? Hung? Even if you hadn't of ran away from home, you'd be  
powerless against me."  
Misty didn't even let the sting of his words sink in. "If he  
doesn't wake up I'll hit you so hard you won't come around until the next  
time the moon is full!"  
"You'd better hope he wakes up, Grandpa. I think she's serious,"  
Gary was kneeling beside Ash, taking his pulse. "But really, Misty,  
don't get so worked up. He's going to be fine in a couple of hours."  
"Good," Misty's anger dissolved immediately. "He'd better,  
worrying me like that when he comes to I'm going to wring his scrawny  
little neck."  
"Err...right," Professor Oak agreed nervously. "You do that,  
Princess. I'm going to be in my study, trying to figure out what Ash  
meant with these confounded riddles, May, please give them dinner and  
show them to their guest rooms. Gary, get Ash into a bed somewhere."  
With that, he made his escape.  
Gary held his hand over Ash's prone form, and with a flashy swirl  
of magic lifted him off of the ground. May silently ushered them into  
the kitchen.  
Misty stared up at the ceiling of her room sometime later, barred  
by moonlight from the window. In a few short days she had come so far  
from being the youngest, ugliest daughter of a King. What would tomorrow  
bring? Adventure? Danger? Despair?  
*Well,* she thought sleepily. *This is better than sleeping on  
the ground.* 


	3. Chapter 1 pt 3

Well, after a long interval of silence, I decided to update! Not that  
anyone reads this fic or even cares...oh well, I'll post it just to be  
annoying. I was inspired by work on "Revolution" anyways. ^_^ Alright,  
thanks to my...three...reviewers...and stuff. Read on, if you dare!  
  
Chapter 3: A Quest to the West  
  
The next morning brought a clear day, the sun outlining the  
Eastern Mountains with gold. The light streaming through Misty's window  
was accompanied by the overpowering scent of eggs, sausage, and pancakes.  
She hurriedly went about getting herself presentable before climbing  
down the stairs to the main living area.  
The kitchen was spotlessly clean, the white walls and floor gleaming.   
May was setting the places at the large, cherry wood table that graced  
the room just beyond the kitchen. Everyone but Ash was sitting at the  
table, talking about nothing in particular.  
  
"Ah, Princess Misty!" Professor Oak greeted her. "So good to see  
you awake, I trust you slept well?"  
  
"Yes, thank you," she sat between Gary and Brock.   
  
Professor Oak nodded. "Good, good! You'll have to borrow some  
of May's old dresses before you leave on your journey."  
  
"Thank you," Misty said again. "How's Ash?"  
  
"I'm fine," she turned around. Ash was standing behind her in a  
sleeveless white under-tunic and black breeches. Despite his paleness  
and the heavy bags under his eyes, he looked perfectly cheerful and  
almost completely recovered from the night before. He took a seat on the  
other side of Gary.  
  
She blushed slightly, she hadn't realized he was there. "I'm  
glad you're alright, I wouldn't want to lose my guide."  
  
"Thanks for your concern," he said sarcastically, helping himself  
to the eggs as soon as May set the platter down. "So what's happening  
today?"  
  
Professor Oak ignored the food, putting his elbows on the table  
and resting his chin in his hands, a thoughtful expression on his face.   
He was so involved in this thought process that he didn't notice that one  
of his elbows had landed in the butter dish. This was apparently a  
normal occurrence, because neither Gary nor May looked twice at him.   
"I've been looking over the prophecies you sang to Princess Misty and my  
grandson last night, Ash."  
  
"What about them?" Ash was piling a rather large stack of  
sausages next to his eggs. "All I remember is sitting down to sing  
Brock's prophecy, and then waking up in a strange bedroom."  
  
"It was backlash, you used to much of your magical energies,"  
Professor Oak said knowingly. "But, it appears that my grandson is  
supposed to accompany you on your journey, and your path lies to the  
West. Your quest has just begun."  
  
"Quest?" one of Ash's eyebrows rose, and he paused in serving  
himself. "And what, pray tell, are we questing for?"  
  
"That's the part I haven't figured out," Professor Oak admitted,  
looking deeply disappointed. "Your prophecies seem to only center on  
who's going and where, not why."  
  
This didn't seem to be the best source of motivation for Ash, but  
he stopped asking questions and began devouring the liberal amount of  
food on his plate.   
  
Gary was surprised. "I'm going with them? But I haven't even  
finished my training and- "  
  
"The prophecy hinted that this would be your final test in  
training," Professor Oak smiled reassuringly at him. "Not what I was  
expecting, but satisfactory."  
  
A few hours later, after much preparation, they were ready to  
head out again. Misty was disappointed, she had hoped to stay at least  
another night in the tower, but at least Professor Oak had found a spare  
sleeping pad for her.  
  
"Goodbye, Grandpa. Goodbye, May," Gary hugged his grandfather  
and sister in turn. "See you around, Tracey."  
  
"Goodbye, Gary," May smiled. "Goodbye everyone."  
  
With that she turned to go back into the tower. Brock watched  
her with a look of great disappointment, but made no move to stop her.   
Misty returned her attention to Professor Oak, who had just slipped a  
necklace with a strangely shaped pendant around his neck.  
  
"Only use it when you need to," he warned him. "Good luck on  
your journey!"  
  
"Bye, guys!" Tracey waved. Still looking over their shoulders  
and waving, Sorcerer and helper went back up the stairs.  
  
Ash helped Misty back onto Nightrider. "Well, that seems to be  
everything. Shall we be on our way?"  
  
They all agreed, and were soon making their way down the winding  
mountain path. Once at it's base they continued West, as previously  
planned and advised by Professor Oak. They were traveling along a  
winding, ill used road that cut through thick forests of heady scented  
pine trees when Brock called a halt for lunch.  
  
"I think this would be much easier if we knew what we were  
supposed to be doing out here," Gary admitted, sitting on the ground and  
arranging his heavy grey robes around him. "I mean, how can we quest for  
anything if we don't know what we're supposed to be doing?"  
  
Ash helped Misty off of the horse and turned it loose to forage  
for whatever food it could find. Evidently Ash didn't believe in using  
money to buy his horse proper feed.   
  
"That is true, young Master Gary, very true," Brock nodded  
sagely, leaning against the makeshift walking stick he had cut for  
himself. "However, if the four of us have been destined to complete such  
a quest, than I am sure we shall."  
  
"Or we'll die trying," Ash put in. "Though…I really don't intend  
to so."  
  
He ignored the glares he was getting from his companions. Misty  
felt herself working up to a full-blown rant, he had been getting on her  
nerves all morning. Brock eventually turned away and began making them  
sandwiches from the provisions Professor Oak had provided them with.   
Gary began toying with his frayed sleeve.  
  
"Ash, I think we need to talk," she began sweetly. But before  
she could explode, something else did.  
  
A young boy burst out of the surrounding trees. His blonde hair  
was plastered to his forehead with sweat and blood from a cut on his  
forehead. He looked around hurriedly, spotted them, and promptly hid  
behind Brock.  
  
"Hide me, I haven't done anything wrong," he said fervently.   
"Please."  
  
Soon after came the sounds of his pursuers. There were obviously  
many of them, making a great deal of racket and shouting for all they  
were worth. "Stop! Thief!"  
  
Several ironclad soldiers with the seal of Indigo emblazoned on  
the front of their tunics crashed into the clearing. Over half were on  
horseback, carrying lances and spears. The foot soldiers held blades in  
their hands. The blonde boy grimaced.  
  
Ash stood up. "Can we help you?"  
  
Misty couldn't help but be impressed. He sounded very calm.  
  
"This peasant, Richard Goodwin, has stolen from the King of  
Indigo," one of the soldiers on horseback announced. "He has taken one  
of the King's deer, from the King's land."  
  
"Only because my family was starving," Richard spat out, glaring  
lividly at them.   
  
"Upon the King's order," the soldier continued as if he hadn't  
been interrupted, "he is to be executed at dawn."  
  
Misty's rage boiled over. "That is unfair! You're going to chop  
off his head just because he wanted to feed his family?"  
  
"Actually, miss, he's to be hanged," one of the foot soldiers  
corrected her.  
  
"Well, whatever!" she threw her hands up. "I've never heard of  
anything so incredibly stupid in my entire li-"  
  
She didn't get any further. Ash clamped on hand over her mouth.   
"Let me handle this," he turned to the soldiers. "I am Bard Ashton, I  
have played in the courts of Indigo and would gladly explain the  
situation to the King. King Lance is a generous man, I'm sure he'll  
understand."  
  
"King Lance has been exiled," one of them explained. "The new  
king is Giovonni. If you want to plead your case to him, he will  
probably see you all hung."  
  
Ash paled. "Giovonni? The Lesser King of Viridian?"  
  
"Aye, the same."  
  
At that point Misty realized they were completely surrounded.   
She opened her mouth to swear explosively, but Ash beat her to it.   
  
Well, that was fun. ^_^ Please review, or I'll never work on this story  
again! If you're reading it...which you're probably  
not...anyway...um...yeah. And stuff. ::looks around:: Wonder where my  
muses got off to... 


End file.
